Maybe that’s why I’ll forgive him
Not because I’m alright and okay,
but because I want him to be.
I want to tell him
I’ve let him go
That I hold no weight against his name
So he can breathe
and live
and never carry the guilt of me.

But what about me?
Who forgives the one who stays behind
Who tends to the ache
when understanding becomes a burden
instead of a balm. I wish I was ignorant of all these.

It’s strange
I can’t even go back to being delusional
I can’t unknow the reasons
can’t hate him cleanly
can’t forget the softness beneath the harm

So I live like this
always making space
for other people’s damage
As if my body
my love
my silence
were some kind of mother’s womb
warm
forgiving
always expected to hold what no one else wants to carry.